WTF time
T.C. generally responds to email within twenty-four hours, usually sooner. His schedule is erratic, but he keeps up with his jobs. When a day passes with no answer at all it's noteably odd. Sure, he could just be passed out drunk, but that's never stopped him more than a few hours.
He wasn't even sure of the time of day when he took a break from research to poke around the Nexus. Coleburn wandered around for an hour or so, listening to conversation, then teleported back home to get thoroughly drunk.
Tamh woke with a hangover, which is not entirely unfamiliar, but he also woke up in a room full of books and lighted boxes that go bing. The world outside is full of colored coaches without horses, going very fast. The lighted box on the desk keeps beeping insistently, and he has no idea how to make it stop. The house is empty, massive, with an abandoned feel. It seems like whoever should be here recently vanished, somehow.
He wasn't even sure of the time of day when he took a break from research to poke around the Nexus. Coleburn wandered around for an hour or so, listening to conversation, then teleported back home to get thoroughly drunk.
Tamh woke with a hangover, which is not entirely unfamiliar, but he also woke up in a room full of books and lighted boxes that go bing. The world outside is full of colored coaches without horses, going very fast. The lighted box on the desk keeps beeping insistently, and he has no idea how to make it stop. The house is empty, massive, with an abandoned feel. It seems like whoever should be here recently vanished, somehow.